Guardian Ryou
by Ryou VeRua
Summary: Ryou hates Bakura and the cold indifference he is always treated to. But when he is murdered, why would he be sent back to be Bakura's guardian angel? And maybe Bakura didn't hate him as much as Ryou first thought... BxR MxM ?, Full summary inside.
1. An Untimely Death

**Guardian Ryou**

**FULL SUMMARY:** Ryou hates Bakura and the cold indifference he is always treated to. But when he is murdered, why would he be sent back to be Bakura's guardian angel? And maybe Bakura didn't hate Ryou as much as he first thought... Will Ryou find it in himself to forgive him before Bakura descends into madness once again? BxR, possibly MxM - VIOLENCE WARNING (And hopefully I don't have to warn about the character death).

**I know this isn't what you should put at the beginning of a story**, but I feel that this is something important that should be said. I've always found Bakura's thirst for revenge to be fascinating. This story and a few others I have planned or have already written (Avenging the Falsebearer fits nicely here) feature this as the backbone of the plot. Yeah, I reuse things. :3 So sue me. Anyway, what I want to explore here is how Bakura, after finally settling down peacefully and regaining at least a bit of normalcy, would react to something so important being ripped away from him. And hopefully as the story progresses, I'll have captured this well. Please give me feedback!

Disturbing stuff ahead. Just read, I guess. And BTW... The violence warning isn't just for this chapter. Wait it out, you'll see.

Heh. I call this warning SB: Separate Bodies. I swear it'll catch on some day!

Thoughts: _blah_

Ex-Host to Spirit, Spirit to Ex-host: _Also blah_

* * *

**Prologue: An Untimely Death**

Silence lay thick on the streets. It was almost pitch black; the thick clouds covering the sky like a blanket blocked out the sliver of the moon. The only illumination came from the street lamps that weren't burnt out or simply shattered. The lone man making his way down the road took another swig from his glass bottle before letting it fall to the ground, taking sadistic pleasure in crushing the pieces that had fallen in his way into a fine powder.

There was nothing particularly special about this man. He had short black hair, a bit of stubble, and was in his early twenties; he wore a dark comfortable shirt and slacks, typical of the average man his age, coated in what could easily pass for dirt unless examined properly. He'd burn the clothes later, he decided, and lay low for a while until the inevitable uproar died down. His liquid courage had replaced his doubts with foolhardy 'bravery,' and as he opened the door to the rundown apartment complex with such force that it nearly flew off its hinges, he let out a content sigh. It felt good to be in control.

He finally reached room 266 and without hesitation sent it crashing open as he did the last door. The man's eyes lit up with vicious delight as he caught sight of his day's hard work in front of him, in the form of an unconscious young boy. White hair hung in dirty mats over the frame of the chair; bruises were forming wherever there was open skin, ugly, splotched and numerous, standing out even more against their pale backdrop. His school uniform was stained beyond repair with sweat, filth and blood. The boy's breaths were coming in short gasps - the man had beaten him too hard earlier, perhaps. He wasn't concerned though - it wasn't as if the boy would need medical attention after the man was through with him.

Testing to make sure the gag and the ropes holding him in place were tight enough, the man stumbled over to a second chair behind the first, almost missing it on his first try. After assuring that yes, his firearm was still in place and loaded in his pant pocket, he settled back into his chair and waited for the boy to wake up. It just wouldn't be as satisfying for him if the victim was unconscious, after all.

The man smirked. _This kid's gonna die tonight._

-o-O-o-O-o-

Ryou was struggling against his restraints before he was fully aware of them. His eyes fluttering open with great difficulty, he took in a ragged breath - one that sent a fiery pain lancing through his body. Trying his best to ignore his protesting body, he strained against the ropes as much as he could manage. They refused to give way, however, and he finally gave up.

_What happened to me... What's going on? Why am I here?_ Thousands of questions were running through his mind, too fast for him to register all of them. His head spinning, he took another deep breath and willed himself to concentrate.

_I was... walking. School had ended a few minutes ago. I had just left the others, hadn't I? And then I passed by that alleyway, and..._ Darkness. _Not good enough! _Ryou willed himself to push further until - _a shadow_. One that had suddenly appeared in front of him, melding with his own, and pain. He had been kidnapped then. Not that he hasn't realized that before, but suddenly it hit him hard - _kidnapped._ No one knew where he was, and chances were he wouldn't be discovered until -

_A limp body washing up at the docks. _

_Sightless eyes staring out forever. _

A wave of nausea hit him hard. Ryou choked and gagged as the taste of bile filled his mouth, barely forcing it back down into the pits of his stomach. _Mother... Amane... is this how you felt when you died? _

"You're awake? S'bout damn time."

Ryou's eyes widened at the voice - he struggled to turn but the ropes holding him were too tight and cut into his arms and legs. He settled back down quickly. His kidnapper stood up, chair scraping against the floor, and walked into his view. Nonplussed, Ryou knew that he had never seen this man in his life, never mind met him - the man seemed to think otherwise though, and let out a loud snarl as he hit Ryou across the face.

"Don't think that innocent act is gonna let you weasel out of this one, you brat! You're not getting away... Not this time." Ryou let out a muffled whimper as the suffocating stench of alcohol washed over him.

_What do you want with me? _Ryou wanted to scream, to cry out, to do _something_, but he doubted anyone was near enough to hear or to help - or if they were, they most likely didn't care.

_Didn't care...  
_

There was one thing he still could try - there was still one last, desperate chance. Ryou had his strong telepathic bond, his mind link, with the ex-spirit of the Ring Bakura. If _anyone_ could possibly rescue him, it would be Bakura. But there was one big problem and Ryou hoped to whatever deity existed that it would not come up now.

Bakura did not care about him at all.

Since the day Bakura had reappeared into his life, he had not acknowledged Ryou - not his previous suffering, not his pain, no hint of remorse whatsoever. He never held the door open for him, rarely talked to him, and barely looked him in the eye - not even now, when Ryou provided him food and shelter! He seemed to derive pleasure from acting as if Ryou did not exist. Bakura even went as far as barricading their link daily, so not even the accidental thought could slip past either way - and every day, Ryou would be treated nothing but a cold silence. However, he had no other choice now. As absurd as it was, he was now going to place all of his faith in this one last possibility. Ryou could only hope that maybe, possibly, Bakura might have left their link open. _Please Bakura... **Please...**_

Ryou let out a choked sob as his desperate cries bounced off the solid mental barrier and echoed mockingly in his head; for this last terrible moment of his life, he would be completely alone.

He felt hot breath on his ear. Ryou's heart was hammering against his chest, and he was filled with a wild, almost primitive fear. No, not completely alone - but he may as well have been.

"You'll pay for killing Komatsu," the man hissed.

_I didn't kill him!_ The silent scream was useless, and the gun pushed roughly into Ryou's temple with unnecessary force as he struggled to think, the thick haze of fear clouding his mind - and then he was hit with a startling realization. Bakura had killed this man's friend.

He had just moments left to live, and all he wanted to do was laugh hysterically - of course it would be _his_ fault, just like everything else that had gone wrong in his life! Of course it would be _Bakura_ that ultimately led him to his _death_! And it was inevitable now - this was the end.

For a brief moment, as the bubble of laughter forced its way up his throat and the loud click of the safety catch being released echoed in his ears, Ryou couldn't help but wonder. If he could have changed one thing, would he still be here, about to die?

_Bakura..._

If only he had gone another path.

_How could you?_

If only he had stayed behind after school a little longer.

_You killed me._

If only Bakura had acknowledged his existence.

_I **hate** you, Bakura._

The last thing Ryou heard was an explosion of sound before pain burst in his head, and everything went black.

* * *

This story... is so old.

Honestly. I think I made this when I first came onto this site. How long ago was that? Almost two years, or something? I have to check. ... Eeew. Nasty stuff I wrote. Anyway... I vaguely remember where I was going with this. But please note, this is VERY low on my update list, aka very low priority for me. Yeah, so... be nice, review, whatever. ; Did I mention how old this was? I was frickin' fourteen or something...

Also, can you believe that this was originally going to be a humour story? Well, part humour and part whatever else...

If you're interested enough in what's gonna come to put this on story alert, you're interested enough to review, right? That's what I thought.

**Edited (with great help!): May 19th, 2010**


	2. The Beautiful Facade

**Guardian Ryou**

I just want to thank **ONIX-21, Spirited-Lilly, Naruto101Lov, Jenelle, Lionessmon, -samax.X, Girlof1000NickNames, Kurama-ness, Panguins-in-American-Oh-my, Lolchen, Harutemu, Nikki, Nekokitsune **(ha ha, you never killed me),**Jebediah Sprinklefield, Kayzo, chrono-contract, let's just say...d-chan...** (which looks very awkward in type XD),**saternoutlaw, Bakura's Guardian Angel, **and **xxLadyShareenaxx. **for their reviews. Sorry I never answered your reviews - I'm going to start just answering them directly. It's a LOT easier.

Uh… A few things to say here. One, look update! :D Two… majorly late update. 77 My bad. Three, **excuse the obvious OOCness please?** This will be resolved as the chapters go along. Oh, and four – there was a request to keep any shounen-ai to a minimum, I believe? Eh… Well, to be honest, the story writes itself. XD I thought there would be a lot, but I'm getting a feeling it's going to be more implied. If it turns out indeed to be the latter, feel free to ignore those pesky implications.

P.S. (aka five) I guess this is somewhat filler-character development chapter. I apologize for how short it is. But I figured something was better than nothing, right? … Right? … Right… -slinks away-

**SB warning!** (Separate body)

* * *

**The Beautiful Façade**

If Malik Ishtar had been asked a year ago what he would have seen himself doing now, his scenario would have been very different than what reality dealt him.

If someone had told Malik that he would be living in Japan he would have shaken his head in disbelief and assured the stranger, "Egypt is and has always been my home."

If someone had told Malik that not only would his other self be back but in the flesh and within a hundred yards of Malik without either of them attempting to murder the other, he would have laughed and said that _he_ was the one that was insane. Throw in the evil spirit of the ring and the previously nameless pharaoh coming back with their own bodies and he would have walked out on the spot.

At night, Malik sometimes wondered if he _had_ gone insane in the end. It was certainly easier to believe than the reality.

It was six months ago that Malik had woken up to a long distance call with a hysterical Yugi at the other end telling him that Atemu had appeared on his doorstep. In his dazed shock, he had hung up on him, simply believing it to be a lucid dream, and fell back asleep the instant his head hit the pillow. To his faint annoyance, he was woken up again; to his credit he didn't hang up this time when a terrified Ryou had phoned him, asking 1) what sort of Egyptian magic could have brought a man who looked so much like him to the door of his apartment, 2) if he knew why Yugi hadn't answered his phone, and 3) should he let the man in because he was hammering away at the door and disturbing all of the neighbours. After he heard Ryou squeak, "He picked the lock!" and a loud click on the other end, he took it as permission to put the phone back down on the receiver. When he woke up again, finally ready for the day ahead of him, he chalked both the phone calls up to two very realistic and coincidentally related dreams.

And then he heard Isis scream from downstairs.

The door was bolted shut; Isis had reacted quickly. By the time he had thrown on his clothes and run downstairs, she was already on the phone with Rishid, who had gone ahead to work.  
The new house was not very big, something that had never bothered any of the three Ishtars. Malik suspected that Isis regretted the size now. The front hall opened into the living room, which itself lead into the kitchen; Isis had almost comically flattened herself against the refrigerator, as far from the front door as she could manage without losing sight of it.

Well, there was the problem, Malik reasoned, his foot still hovering over the last step of the stairs. He might not have possessed the Millennium Rod anymore, but he could certainly hold his own and drive off whomever had the gall to scare his sister like that. With only one backwards glance at Isis, who was clutching the phone and speaking into it with an urgency that he had never expected to hear from her, he crept along the hall and peered through the peephole.

There was a younger man lounging on the front porch, murmuring hatefully to himself and scuffing the ground with a rather resigned air about him. He was tall and lean, tanned and muscular, and all too familiar. The man, as if sensing Malik on the other side, looked directly at him. Malik stared at his own face – into his own lavender eyes – and did the only reasonable thing that a person in his impossible situation would do.

The scream that followed reverberated along the walls of the house for what felt like hours before finally dying out.

"_SHIT!"_

-o-O-o-O-o-

"_Shit... sh..."_

"Oi, Malik," said a gruff voice.

"Nngh," Malik muttered back, turning away from it stubbornly.

"He was the one who wanted to sit around and watch TV in the first place," the voice said indignantly, to which there was a small grunt of agreement. Malik felt something soft hit him in the arm and he scowled slightly, but didn't move.

"Hey, Malik!"

"Yes?" came the drawling (annoying, so_ aggravating!) _answer of the second voice. Malik's eyes shot open and he glared at the owner angrily. "I told you to stop doing that!"

The man rolled his eyes and grinned, stretching his long limbs in his favourite nonchalant manner. "Right. Force of habit. Sorry." He exaggerated every syllable, enjoying the rising colour in the first's almost identical face. "_Maaaliiiik."_

Malik bristled. "Six months. You know what that stands for? When I found you on my doorstep, _naked_ and _shivering_ and _begging_ for me to let you in! Now watch it, or you can haul your ass back out on the streets!"

A sharp bark of laughter came from the third man, sprawled across the other couch. "Ishtar, I've heard you say that at least a thousand times since you took him in and you _know_ you'll never follow through."

"Shut up!" Malik snapped back at him. "You're as bad as he is! I don't understand how the hell Ryou puts up with you, Bakura, after all the crap you put him through every day - or how you even managed to convince the Pharaoh and Yugi and them that you were reformed..." He snorted. "Reformed my ass."

The second man perked up slightly. "What about your ass?"

Malik threw a pillow at him as Bakura howled with laughter. He barely managed to duck under it; the pillow skimmed his forehead and bounced harmlessly off his wild blond hair. He let out a small cackle - and got another pillow square in the face.

"Mariku's down!" Bakura crowed happily as the Egyptian fell off his chair in surprise.

"Good," said Malik, eyes once again glued to the television screen. "Now what were you asking me before?"

"I want to know what we're doing tonight."

Malik raised an eyebrow. "'We'? What do you mean, 'we'? You're going home to Ryou tonight."

"Like hell!" muttered Bakura, frowning. "I'm staying over here with you guys."

"So you can do what? Trash my house and eat all of my food?"

"Our house, and our food," said a slightly dizzy voice from the floor.

"No, _my _house and _my_ food. You don't officially live here yet."

"Oh, come off it..."

"Hey, hey!" Bakura interrupted hotly. "Look, if that's the issue, I'll pay you back. I'll take you out tonight, even! How's that? Steal a wallet from some rich Meiou prep, find a fancy restaurant and grab a bite to eat."

"Let me repeat myself, and don't you _dare_ say anything, Mariku. Reformed. My. Ass." But Malik was grinning now. "Is Ryou okay with you being over here?"

Bakura shrugged. "It's the weekend, I left him a note, _and_ he doesn't want me hanging around there anyway. He'll be fine. Besides, his dad came home yesterday – he was going to pick him up from school."

"Is that why you didn't stalk him today?"

Bakura's pale face was rapidly attaining the same redness that Malik's had previously achieved. "I do not _stalk_ him. He just has a tendency to attract the wrong attention, and I want to make sure that nothing… bad comes of it."

"Wrong attention?" chortled Mariku, perched back on his chair. "Yeah, like yours."

Another well-aimed pillow to the face, this time from Bakura, sent him back down to the floor.

-o-O-o-O-o-

_Regaining consciousness was a curious sensation. Ryou could only relate it to waking up from a long, dreamless sleep, or from a coma. His memories were slow coming to him, as if several days or weeks old._

_But when they did, the impact of what had happened suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks - or, Ryou thought, surprising himself with a twisted, grim smile, like the bullet that had claimed his life._

_He was dead._

_Ryou did not understand how he was taking this new realization so calmly - but then again, this morbid humour he suddenly had was just as unexpected. He looked down at his hands with casual interest, noting their new, shimmering quality. Different, but not overly frightening. If this was all there was to dying, Ryou decided, then death was not nearly as scary as it was cracked up to be._

_In fact, death was downright boring. Surrounding him for miles was nothing but black, pitch black, a yawning abyss that seemed to have no visible end. Ryou stared out into the darkness of death, thinking. What happened next? Was he supposed to wait for someone or something from Beyond to guide him, or was he supposed to find his own way to wherever he was meant to go? His still heart leapt into his throat as the next thought flashed through his mind._

_Would he be able to find his family when he arrived?_

_With this thought in his mind, spurring speed that he had never known in his living days, he ran into the infinite night._

* * *

… Roflwaffle. Bakura stole from Kurama. You gonna take that sitting down, demon thief king?

And poor Malik. :P About a 7 hour time difference and while Japan was at about 9 o'clock, Malik was fitfully asleep at 2 a.m. Key word: 'was'.

Peace out until next chapter. :3

And please, reviews? Not just for the sake of having reviews - I want criticism. I'd especially want to know if you readers think Bakura and Marik - Malik, for that matter - are too OOC even after 6 months of settling down.

**Originally uploaded: June 28th, 2008 - Updated (with great help!): May 24, 2010, December 22****nd**** 2011**


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